Crossroads

Brittany Byers
Aug 8, 2017 · 3 min read

The door to my right is made of deep cherry wood. The red seeping through the dark brown. It’s large, Victorian with many carvings. As I step closer to the door I can see each stroke of wood taken out. I can feel where the carvings are much deeper. I am speechless, its beauty is something I have never seen. Looking at a section of the door I can see the mistakes and blood that was shed. When I step back, looking at the whole door I can still see the blemishes, not as mistakes but as art. Tranced in this door I know it would give me something I’ve always craved, a deep, genuine understanding of myself and my world. Well looking at the door I realize no questions will go unanswered. I will see the deep red, through the overwhelming dark brown. As I reach for the knob the door vanishes and my trance is broken. Though I can still feel the deep carvings touching my skin, I can smell the blood and a sense of calmness.

As I turn from where the Victorian door stood I see large French doors. Covered in watercolor paintings these bright white doors give me a feeling of purity. The paintings may appear dull at a glance but as I step closer I can see the brush strokes. Detailed, I feel the reds, blues and yellows. Seeing the mistakes in the art and how the creator accepted them, worked with them. As I examine this door I feel my cheeks tighten and a smile come to my face, I sense joy and happiness. I can see if I take this path I will embrace the creative side of my life, being able to feel the vibration of colors. This time I don’t try opening the door, I know it won’t open.

For the first time the memory of the first door fills my head. I turn and look at the tall, pudgy man standing before me. In his presence, I feel as though I’m at a standstill, each door holding a piece of my heart.

I open my mouth to ask the man who created these extravagant doors. As if reading my thoughts and seeing through me, he calmly and rationally speaks, “You are the creator of both doors.”

I believe this man but don’t understand. Both doors give me something I have longed for, each in different ways. How could I have created two completely different works of art?

Frustrated, confused and proud I speak for the first time, “If I am truly the creator of both doors, why can I not walk through both?”

Speaking firmly and compassionately with a small smile, he says, “Sacrifices must be made.”

As quickly as both doors and the man appeared, they were gone. Leaving me alone and at a crossroads. The road behind me is secure and safe. I understand it, as it does me. I know I have outgrown this path, it doesn’t bring me the fulfillment and adventure as it once did.

As I look straight I see this familiar path. I know if I choose to continue I will never truly find what I’m searching for.

I sit in the middle of the crossroads, reliving each moment I spent with both doors. Both offer me things I can’t turn away from. How do I choose?

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